Instead the sun’s second punch found a weakness in the cloud cover over what, at first glance, appeared to be nothing more interesting than the office of a moneyed merchant. The window faced on to the peristyle, and so it was across the fountains and the birdbaths, the fan-trained peaches and the herbaries that his rays picked out a desk encrusted with ivory behind a high-backed chair complete with padded armrests and cushions. There were seats for two visitors, upholstered in azure-blue wool, plus chests of satinwood and maple and other grained woods. Fragrant elecampane burned in wall braziers, there were frescoes of flowers, ripe fruits and another of a leopard tamed and entranced by Orpheus’ lyre.
All this, of course, our flaming voyeur could find in any rich man’s office anywhere across the Empire.
What he wouldn’t expect to see, however, were great seas of ink spilling over tessellated peacocks or a flying scatter of scrolls as a blue-eyed, cross-eyed cat twisted from chest to upholstery to fine, damasked drapes in a desperate bid to catch the small creature with a black face and long tail which stubbornly remained one pace ahead, while at the same time a young woman made concerted but unfortunately ineffective snatches in the air, resulting in pens, tablets and styluses rolling under furniture and rugs.
Resting his elbows on the cloudbank, the sun ticked off the laps as monkey, cat and Claudia darted round the room, giving marks out of ten for their balletic leaps and plunges. Then the monkey opened up the game by shinning out the window. Drusilla followed hot on its heels, but Claudia could not. She merely leaned forward, hands on her knees, and prayed her lungs had not sustained permanent damage. In fact, she was still gasping when Marcus Cornelius breezed in.
‘The end of another party?’ he asked cheerfully, examining the slashes in the damask and claw marks gouged deep in the finely grained woodwork. ‘No, I see it’s still in full swing.’ He stepped over a huge puddle of ink to watch a garden being systematically laid to waste.
‘Did it not occur to you,’ Claudia wheezed, ‘to buy the boy a spinning top?’
Orbilio returned a marble bust to its podium and straightened the two overturned chairs. ‘Drusilla was putting on weight and needed the exercise, so say thank you.’
‘Bog off.’
‘That’s gratitude. I entertain your foundling, streamline your cat, redecorate your office and all you can say is bog off. Did you know you have ink spots on your hem?’ The look she gave him sent the sun scuttling back behind the cloudbank, but the investigator was made of sterner stuff. ‘Guess what day it is today.’
‘The day you walk out of my life?’
‘Sorry, it’s my lucky day, not yours-you see, this morning I thwarted the Market Day Murderer.’
Claudia straightened up. ‘You have?’ In spite of herself, she was impressed. ‘You’ve actually caught him?’ Orbilio picked up some scrolls and laid them on the table beside a bronze stylus jar. ‘Thwarted,’ he corrected. ‘Not caughted. There’s a difference. Let me start at the beginning. You remember Zygia, the girl who was killed in the Lupercal? She had a lover, Severina, who told me Zygia knew who the Market Day Murderer was, only she wouldn’t tell Severina in case it endangered her life. Are you with me so far?’
‘Marcus, you have my undivided apathy.’
‘Anyway, Zygia was on her way to warn-what?’ Frowning, he looked at the large cedarwood chest whose lid Claudia was now holding open with one hand, while her other seemed to be gesticulating at its contents.
‘It’s empty,’ he said, craning his neck.
‘Not for long, Hotshot.’
He glanced towards the garden, to where Larentia and her daughter were bearing down. ‘Claudia, you’re not serious…?’
She gave him a smile as innocent as a freshly laid egg. Then pushed him hard in the stomach.
‘Mmmmf!’
‘Quiet,’ she hissed. ‘Ah, Larentia. Julia. The others said to tell you they couldn’t wait until you got back from shopping, they’ve gone on ahead to the Circus.’
Larentia’s wrinkles puckered deeper. ‘I thought I saw someone in here,’ she snapped. ‘A man.’
Claudia plumped herself down on the chest. ‘Trick of the light,’ she replied, indicating the sun’s efforts to break through the clouds.
The old woman sniffed suspiciously. ‘What the devil happened here?’
‘The monkey,’ Claudia replied, and indeed no more was needed on the subject, since it had been the bane of everybody’s life since it got loose last night. All attempts to catch it had ended in disaster-Leonides sustained an ankle injury, two others knocked themselves out colliding heads and the net used to snare it was shredded from the inside within seconds. Better by far to turn Drusilla on it and trust she gives it a heart attack.
‘Fortunata took to her bed,’ put in Julia. ‘Herky was so affected by the horrid beast, he won’t come out of the cellar and she’s sure he’s having a nervous breakdown in there.’
‘Mmmmf!’
‘What’s that?’ asked Larentia.
‘What’s what?’
‘That knocking sound.’
Claudia rested her weight even more firmly on the lid. ‘Problems with the underfloor heating,’ she said. ‘There’s a blockage in the hypocaust, that’ll be the man inspecting it. Aren’t you leaving it late for the parade? I hear they’ve got elephants, camels, not to mention a lion that jumps through hoops.’ Her voice ended on a tantalizing note, and the two women swallowed the bait.
‘Are you sure you can’t come?’ asked Julia, helping her mother on with her wrap.
‘If only,’ Claudia sighed, kicking the chest in rhythm with the knocks. ‘But Gaius’ closest friend-you remember Statius? No? Well, he’s dying, poor fellow, and I could never-’ sniff ‘-forgive myself for not calling on him before he-’ sniff ‘-passes over.’
‘Quite, quite.’ They shuffled to the door and she waved them off the premises.
Back in the office, Marcus Cornelius was leaning over the chest, red-faced and gasping for air. ‘I thought at one point you were trying to suffocate me,’ he said.
‘At one point,’ she replied prettily, ‘you were right.’
‘Statius?’ he grinned.
‘P. Leno Statius. It’s the name of the oculist down on the corner, the first name that entered my head.’
‘I wonder what the P stands for.’
‘Is it pertinent?’ she asked.
‘More likely Paulus, but that’s beside the point. You lied to me, Claudia Seferius. You’re not drowning in domestic trivia, you’re in your element.’
‘Suffocating, Marcus. I said I was suffocating. As a policeman, you should pay more attention to the cause of my imminent demise.’
‘Imminent demise my foot.’ He laughed. ‘Young lady, you positively thrive on danger-hang on! What did you say?’ He slammed one fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘Of course!’ In three quick strides he was across the debris, hooking one leg over the windowsill. ‘Claudia, you’re a genius.’
‘I know,’ she yelled. ‘But what about the mess in my office. Didn’t your mother teach you to tidy your toys?’
‘Later,’ he promised, racing down a path strewn with leaves and blossoms, and vaulting over the statuary toppled by Drusilla and the monkey. Cause of death. Pay more attention to the cause of my death, she’d said. ‘I need to see Zygia’s body before they cremate it.’ At the gate, he paused. ‘Do give me the name of your gardener.’
He grinned, and deftly ducked the inkwell which came whizzing past his ear.
*
Claudia surveyed the war zone that had once been an office, then aimed a kick at the trunk which she’d used to hide Supersnoop. Cedarwood, and therefore expensive, it normally took pride of place in the dining room, but something had to make way for that lifesize bronze Venus and where better than here to house the stack of silver plate she’d hired from the banker? Unfortunately the wretched banker turned up at the front door, not the back, where there was no Cypassis to mention the dreaded typhus. As a result, the chest now lay empty. Claudia slammed the lid open against the wall. Painfully empty, in fact, and the big question was: how to stop Larentia finding out? Once the old cat got wind of one borrowed hoard, she’d be off on the scent like a truffle hound. Claudia was still slumped over the trunk when Leonides hobbled in, his left foot resembling a swaddled infant, and said, ‘There’s a young lady in the atrium, asking for he coughed gently ‘-Marcus.’